“That one!” exclaimed Ole, whose brown face seemed to grow pale, as he looked at the Rensdyr.
“That’s what I say, my lad.”
The waif actually trembled; but he spoke to the helmsman, who immediately put the boat about, and headed her towards Stockholm.
“No,” said Peaks, sternly. “That vessel.”
He pointed to her, and Ole spoke again to the steersman, but without any better result. The boatswain was not to be thwarted. Going forward, he took the little wheel into his own hands, and headed the steamer towards the Rensdyr. Indicating by his signs what he wanted, the man at the helm seemed to be quite willing to obey orders when he knew what was wanted.
“Don’t go to that vessel, Mr. Peaks,” cried Ole, in an agony of terror.
“Why, my lad, what’s the matter with you?”
“That’s the Rensdyr!”
“I know it.”
“He will kill me,” groaned Ole.